Wounded Wing
by Blisterdude
Summary: As tensions in Kirkwall stretch to breaking point, with the mages and Templars on the brink of conflict, Marian Hawke finds herself feeling very much alone.
1. Wounded Wing

Just a little character piece I've had in my head for a while. No immediate plans to continue it, but maybe I will if the mood takes me.

* * *

Marian sat forward on the couch, staring into the crackling flames of the fireplace in her library. The warm glow illuminated the shadowy, darker corners of the room, but her home felt no warmer, fuller for it. In fact, Marian didn't feel much of anything at all.

The letter that had arrived from the Gallows lay on the arm of the couch, beside her.

She clenched, and unclenched her hands, gripping them hard one minute, till they were white, then releasing, letting the blood tingle and flow again.

The estate could be so…so empty, sometimes. And these moments of weakness would sneak up on her, washing over her like a tidal wave of…dread, of quiet, of being alone, feeling nothing.

"I didn't want any of this." Marian mumbled, watching the dancing flames with unseeing eyes.

Father gone, mother gone, Carver gone, Bethany…Bethany locked up in the Circle, for all intents and purposes, gone as well.

They'd come to Kirkwall to start over, to try and survive, to try and keep their family together.

A few stray tears slipped down her already dried, stained cheeks. She sniffed, clenching her hands tighter again.

Losing Bethany hurt her the most. Did that make her cruel? She missed her father, and Carver, and her mother. She'd loved them all. But Bethany…

Bethany had understood her. In a way mother hadn't. And she didn't try to fight her, in everything, like Carver had. She didn't have anything she felt she needed to prove. Their affection, their love was…unconditional.

She didn't like to admit that she needed somebody to lean on, sometimes. Ever since father passed, Marian had carried their family, as best she could. Then she'd come to Kirkwall, and met others, like Merrill, Varric, Fenris and the rest, and she carried them too.

After the defeating the Arishok, and thwarting the Qunari invasion of the city, Marian felt like she was carrying all of Kirkwall now, too. She was its Champion, for whatever that was worth, and whatever it meant.

But the weight was so…so damnably heavy, now.

Mages and Templars at each other's throats. Getting worse every day. The tension in the city was so thick you could cut it with a-

There was a gentle knock at the door.

"Come in." She called, not looking up from the fire.

"You have a visitor, Lady Hawke." Bodahn announced softly, from the door. "I could…tell them to come back later, if…" He offered, sympathetically.

"Who is it?" She asked, closing her eyes.

In her mind she could see her, Bethany, as clearly as if she were in the room with her. Soft, where she was hard. Smooth, where she was ragged. Gentle, where she was rough. Pale, almost glowing skin, where hers was marked, scarred, particularly the large, mottled, dark old scar across her nose, and under her eyes.

"Varric Tethras, Messere." Bodahn replied.

Hawke nodded slowly, trailing a finger idly across the bumpy, stained skin.

A lingering gift, from a time she'd picked a fight with the wrong boy, the blacksmith's son in Lothering. But then he'd been picking on Bethany, and he'd already hit Carver for trying to help his twin sister out.

"Let him in, Bodahn." Hawke said, eventually.

She waited until she heard Bodahn leave before opening her eyes and staring into the crackling flames again, watching the shadows dance over the deep red carpet under her feet, and the elegant stone-work floor.

Of course, the boy hadn't bothered Bethany, or Carver again, after she'd finished teaching him a lesson. But she'd learned a couple of her own, that day.

One, some scars never heal.

Two, Marian was prepared to do absolutely anything in the world for her sister.

They'd always been close. Closer to each other than to either Carver or mother. Closer certainly than most sisters perhaps should have been, even back then. Marian felt like some little, niggling part of her had known, but that was probably just her trying to…to rationalise what happened as the years went on, to take responsibility, or blame, for things that just weren't entirely her fault, or at least, decisions that she shared the blame for.

Marian raised her hands to her chin and rested her elbows on her knees, frowning as she chewed over the word 'blame'. It didn't seem quite right, not when she didn't really regret any of it, what she and Bethany had done, or become to each other. And why should she? She loved her sister, and Bethany loved her.

In a world where they'd had only each other and the…the struggling idea of their family…

"Thought I'd find you sulking in here, Hawke." Varric entered the library, waiting by the door.

"I'm not sulking, I'm brooding." Marian half-smiled, turning toward her dwarven friend. She softly patted the sofa beside her, before leaning on resting her chin on her hands again.

"Don't try to wordplay a wordsmith, you're smarter than that." Varric crossed the room, dropping onto the sofa beside her. He leaned back, crossing his legs and staring into the fire with her. "Rivaini's been missing you. I wonder why?" He grinned.

"Don't be lewd." Marian replied, trying to be serious, but smiling anyway.

"Would you have me stop being myself entirely, my lady?" Varric gasped, mock-appalled.

"It's Hawke to you, you know that." Marian sighed. "None of that "my lady" nonsense."

"Whatever you say." Varric shrugged, as she turned to face him. "Hawke." He added, with a grin.

"Good." She smiled a little, turning back to the fire. "What brought you over then, Isabela couldn't stop by herself?"

"Be fair, Hawke. Aveline lets a lot slide with Rivaini, but even she had to ban her from Hightown after what she did to that statue of Andraste. You know, the last time we were all at the Hanged Man when-"

"Maker's Breath, I remember." Hawke groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Not that I relish being able to." She laughed, softly.

"I've know you for…what…five or six years now? But even I never knew you had it in you." Varric chuckled, along with her.

"Hasn't felt like it." Marian said quietly, staring back into the flames.

She could feel Varric watching her, carefully. He hadn't asked what was wrong, yet, and she thought perhaps she loved him for it, in a way. Varric was a friend, her closest, maybe. A friend in the truest sense, who'd stuck with her as she'd stuck with him through the years, no matter what.

Varric spun his stories, played the part of the gossip and rumour broker, at the heart of dozens of woven threads between contacts and informants among Kirkwall's denizens. But he classed his companions and friends as off-limits, unless he had good reason. And if Varric felt he had good reason, well, then you possibly had good reason to be concerned.

"You can ask." Marian shrugged, picking up the letter from the Gallows and passing it over. "Or you can read this."

"The last time I saw you like this Leandra had just…passed." He muttered, taking the letter. "Nothing happened to Sunshine, right?" He laughed, nervously.

Marian didn't say anything, waiting for him to finish reading it.

She listened as he murmured slightly, under his breath as he worked through it. Eventually she heard him fold the letter and she held out her hand, as he returned it.

"I'm sorry, Hawke." He said, quietly.

"It's all the trouble between the mages and the Templars. For every little incident or escape, or any perceived slight against her order," Marian grumbled, slowly. ", Knight-Commander Meredith squeezes tighter and tighter and tighter. Now she's forbidden all outside visitors to any mage in the Gallows without her personal permission. Whether they're friend, family or…or more."

"You don't think she'd bar you, do you?" Varric argued. "You're the Champion of Kirkwall, if word got around she refused to let you visit your sister-"

"My sympathetic leanings toward the mages are a bit of an open secret, Varric." Marian shrugged. "I've broken my share of laws and worked against the Templars more than a few times in the past. There's nothing Meredith has to publicly accuse me with, but she suspects, and that will be enough, I think. There's no way she'll let me see Bethany."

"She's turned every mage in the Gallows into…into a hostage?" Varric growled, in disbelief.

"It's a smart move." Marian scrunched up the letter, tossing it into the fire. She watched the flames lick at the edges, as it curled and blackened. "It'll make things worse. But maybe that's what she wants. Only one mage has to throw the first punch, and then she gets what she wants."

She was momentarily surprised when she felt Varric's hand on her shoulder. He'd never been much for contact before. Words were his gift, his skill.

But she wanted touch, now. Something tangible, solid, to feel. She placed her hand over his.

"Sunshine'll be alright, Hawke. She's smart." He grinned. "Smarter than you, anyway."

Marian smiled, squeezing his hand on her shoulder.

"I miss her so much."

The fire danced before them, the last of the letter little more than ashes, gone. Marian watched the flickering tips of the flames, imagining she could see Bethany, smiling, her palm upturned, gently teasing the embers of magical fire in her hand.

Smiling at her.

Holding her, in the night, when they were alone.

Kissing her, when-

"I love her so much." She whispered, her voice breaking.

Marian waited for Varric to say something. It was as good as an admission, in one way or another, that her feelings toward her sister weren't entirely purely familial. They'd always been careful, she thought. Mother had never suspected, she was sure of that. And Carver…Carver had never been able to see far beyond Carver.

"I did wonder sometimes, Hawke." Varric said, eventually. He didn't remove his hand. "I feel like this solves a piece of the 'Hawke puzzle' I've never quite been able to figure out for the last few years, really."

Marian turned sharply, worriedly.

"What? You never-"

"You're a pretty closed book, I'll admit. But Sunshine wore her heart on her sleeve, especially around you." Varric smiled, looking past her, into the fire. There was no judgement, or anger, or cynicism in his face, or tone. She allowed herself to relax. "I didn't ask because it wasn't my business, and we didn't know each other well back then. And when Bethany was found by the Templars, well…why open that wound?" He shrugged.

Marian sat back, letting herself sink into the couch, beside Varric.

"Bethany and I were…more to each other, than sisters." Marian said. It was the first time she'd said it aloud, it was an admission half to herself.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Varric asked. "You don't have to, we can always have a drink or twelve instead. You've gotta have something strong in your big fancy house." He smirked.

Hawke sighed, the beginnings of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Why not both, Varric?"

"Why not." Varric grinned back.


	2. Bethany

Very minimal dialogue in this, but I kinda like the weight it gives Hawke's memories. It's effectively one long stream of thought or recollection from Hawke, so it makes a kind of sense she focused on events in a way that highlighted how they made her feel, or affected her, rather than a detailed replay. It also shows quite how significant Bethany's words to her were, at that particular moment, in altering their relationship from that point on.

* * *

To understand who Marian Hawke was, you had to go back to who she'd been, in the beginning.

Marian remembered her childhood being very short. She was only…what…three? Perhaps four when the twins, Carver and Bethany were born? And Bethany inheriting their father's magical bloodline changed everything.

Father could control his powers. They'd had to be cautious, just in case, but father was smart, and trained, so they'd never had to move, or hide. But Bethany had changed all that.

She remembered hating Bethany for that, at first. Or…trying to. Her powers never fully manifested until she was ten, or eleven, but there were sporadic incidents, uncontrollable accidents that were simply wont to happen because children were emotional, and temperamental, and her magic responded to that.

And Carver was so gifted at pushing all her buttons, as children. It was hard to make Bethany understand, at that age, that she couldn't push back because if she did, she might accidentally burn down their home, freeze the surrounding landscape, or summon a demon to kill her twin brother because she was upset with him.

They moved often, from place to place, always staying on the edges of villages and settlements they tried to set up home in. And for some years, Marian hated Bethany for making their lives that way.

She hated that she couldn't have friends, either because they were always moving or because they couldn't risk exposing the fact that several members of their family were apostates. She hated that father and mother expected her to look out for her brother and sister. She hated that she'd been expected to grow up so fast, while Bethany, and Carver by proxy, were allowed to remain children a little longer.

She thought it would have been easier if she could just feel nothing about her sister. Nothing. Nothing at all. But she did feel things. Just looking at her made her feel things and she hated it. Her feeling weren't what they wanted them to be, so she tried to make them into anger, into hate, into bitterness. It wasn't as easy, and she hated that too.

Bethany was special. Bethany was fragile. Bethany needed extra care. Bethany needed protecting, father often told her.

Marian couldn't take out her frustrations on Bethany, not with father spending so much time and energy on her, training and teaching her, and mother doting on her as she did, so instead, she picked at Carver. Poked, teased, goaded, competed, condescended, nearly every chance she got.

She'd been so cruel, back then.

But as so often with life, things changed, and they changed very quickly, one day

Father, Malcolm Hawke, died.

He had been ill for several years, but it came and went, and they, perhaps he himself too, had hoped he could survive like that, indefinitely. To train and prepare Bethany, to try and protect and support them all.

A piece of mother died with him, that day. Leandra was never quite the same. She tried to hold them together, to work and support them, but she'd leaned on Malcolm as much as the rest of them. Carver withdrew, becoming insular, and combative, and Bethany was heartbroken.

Marian hurt as much as the rest of them, but Marian had a choice to make. And it was only then, in her seventeenth year, that she'd realised Father had been trying to prepare her for it for some time.

She remembered father's passing so clearly. He'd gone quietly, in his sleep one night. No last words, no painful exit, no long goodbyes or parting messages. She'd never been able to decide if it was better that way, or not. Sometimes she wished he'd just been able to state clearly what he wanted her to do, even though she knew.

She'd been looking out for them for years, in one way or another. She been bitter, and angry about it, but she had. She'd worked around their various homes. She had the skills she needed to care and provide for them. And she'd been training with the sword for years, she knew how to protect them.

Marian already remembered so little of her life before Bethany was born. Her entire life since then was defined by her little sister. Her safety, her education, her training, her wellbeing. She had been the centre of their tiny, insignificant universe.

For a long time, she thought she'd hated her little sister for that. She'd even earned a scar on her face that she expected she'd carry all her life, after trying to defend her from a local bully.

She thought she'd hated Bethany for the difficulties in their lives. She'd tried to hate Bethany for the difficulties in their lives. But…

For as long as she could remember, Bethany had looked at her with nothing short of adoration, affection, unadulterated awe and admiration. And it shamed her, shook her, sharply, deeply, that she tried to think and feel the way she did about her sister.

She remembered the exact moment she gave up all pretence that she'd ever felt anything other than love for Bethany, and an unflinching, rooted desire to protect and guard her, planted deep inside her by her father, back when they'd first discovered her magical powers.

They'd gathered together in a clearing in the woods, not far from their home, for Malcolm Hawke's funeral pyre. They all stood somewhat apart, dealing with the loss in their own way. Mother crying openly, racked by grief. Carver standing off alone, at the edge of the glow of the fire, silent and still.

Marian stood slightly back from her mother, staring hard at the flames. Her eyes were wet, though she couldn't tell if it was tears, or the heat of the pyre, stinging them. She hurt, she hurt so much, but she didn't know how to show it. She wasn't sure she could.

And then Bethany had appeared close at her side, quietly. She didn't say anything, but Marian felt her hand fumbling, reaching for her own, hanging at her side.

Marian looked down at her, fourteen now, just starting to show signs of the woman she would become as her body matured out of its childish shape. Her long dark hair framed her pale, clear features. Her soft, blue eyes found hers.

"We'll be okay, won't we?" Bethany asked, in a whisper.

It wasn't so much that things changed then, as that she simply accepted what she had been fighting to deny for the past dozen years or so. All the feelings that bubbled and surged and threatened to overflow, the ones she tried to beat and bludgeon and force into hate. But she never could make it stick. It just wasn't natural. The hate faded away, as if it had never really been there.

Bethany was her little sister, and she loved her. And she would give her life to protect her. She would do everything she could to do what father had tried to do for them all.

It didn't seem like a choice anymore, at that point. But Marian didn't mind, as she took Bethany's hand, squeezing it tightly as they watched the pyre burn in the night.

Marian Hawke chose to grow up again.


	3. Siblings

By this point, Hawke and Varric are definitely getting a bit tipsy. And yeah, for those reading, I am actually framing this the way Dragon Age II is framed. Varric might later appreciate the irony when he ends up recounting his version of Hawke's tale to Cassandra.

* * *

"I was a terrible child." Hawke spun the goblet in her hand idly, watching the warm red wine slosh about inside. "The way I treated Carver…was it any wonder he turned out the way he did?"

"I never met him," Varric began, topping up his own goblet from the decanter. ", but Sunshine used to tell me bits and pieces, back in the day. I'm sorry about what happened to him, Hawke, but I don't think you can take credit for the spiteful sod your brother might have been."

"I picked on him, provoked him, taunted, fought, squabbled, condescended-"

"What siblings don't?" Varric chuckled. "And like you said, you were a child. Children can be cruel. The trick is not growing up to be cruel."

"Think I pulled it off?" Marian wondered aloud.

"You don't need me to answer that, Hawke."

"Maybe I just want to hear someone say it." Marian shrugged. "Forget it. It was stupid."

Varric's hand was on her shoulder again. Firm. But gentle.

"You're a good person." He said, sounding so sure of himself. "I know it. The others know it. Sunshine knew it, probably better than the rest of us."

Marian couldn't bring herself to meet Varric's gaze. Eventually he let go of her shoulder, sitting back on the couch again.

"I made Carver resent me, and maybe even Bethany too." Marian sighed.

"You were his big sister. You were bigger, tougher, and in charge." Varric rumbled, casually. "And Bethany, you told me, needed a lot of care and attention. A lot. Of course he was bitter."

"I should have done more." Marian argued.

"He'd only have resented you more for trying to coddle him. Take it from a second son, Hawke." Varric grinned.

"Carver was always so…sour. Angry." She pinched her brow, thinking back.

"Some are much worse. Remember Bartrand? Bastard locked us up and abandoned us in the Deep Roads, then went mad because of that Red Lyrium idol." Varric tipped back his drink.

Marian gave this some consideration.

"Carver never tried to actually kill you, did he?" Varric nudged her with his elbow.

"I suppose not." She conceded. "He died for us."

"He did." Varric nodded. "And you can bet your ass Bartrand wouldn't have done that for me." He chuckled.

"I tried to blame Bethany for everything, for so long." Marian rolled the goblet between her hands. "Why? Jealousy? Envy? It wasn't her fault."

"Until your father died." Varric added.

"…until father died…" Marian nodded. "I didn't have the luxury of…of being a selfish little girl. I don't think I ever did, but I tried for a long time anyway, after she was born. Until father died. Bethany was never stupid, she must have known the sort of things I thought of her, or wanted to say to her, back then. The cruel things."

"Maybe, maybe not. I don't think Sunshine'd have cared."

Marian looked at him, doubtfully.

"I don't claim to know much about your lives back in Ferelden, Hawke, but I knew your sister a good year or so before she entered the Circle here." Varric finished his drink, reaching for the decanter again and fixing her a serious look. "Your sister worshipped the ground you walked on, anyone could see that."

Marian looked away, finishing her drink, then allowed Varric to top it up again.

"I don't think she had a negative thought in her head about you, Hawke." Varric pressed on. "In fact, looking back, I feel even more blind for not seeing what was going on with you two, even if we weren't that close at the time."

"Did you talk to Bethany much then? When we first met?" Marian asked, curious. "Most of our time was spent either risking our lives together or I was off risking my life while I left her behind."

"She didn't tell me anything scandalous about you, if that's what you're wondering." Varric smirked. "And I tried to get her to, trust me. But Sunshine wouldn't do anything to betray her big sister."

Marian smiled a little.

"We talked, from time to time." Varric nodded, going on. "I think she got lonely, sometimes, and…well…I wanted to know more about my new partner, since it turns out she wasn't quite much for talking about herself." The dwarf gave her a teasing look.

"I had other concerns, back then. Keeping food on the table. Keeping money in Uncle Gamlen's purse. Keeping his roof over our heads. Pulling mother and Bethany out of such…squalor…" Marian's gaze went back to the fire, which she'd stoked up again not long ago. "…and…I just don't think there was ever much to say about myself. I sacrificed…so much, for Bethany, all that time ago in Ferelden. I'm not sure who Marian Hawke might have been, as a little girl, she never had the chance to find out. So much of what I am was defined by my sister. What she needed, what she wanted, what I had to do…wanted to do for her." Marian sat back, realising all she'd just said. She could feel Varric watching her, with a grin.

"That's a lot to say for someone without a lot to say." He said, calmly. "And Bethany always had a lot to say about you, although it always felt like she was holding something back. I think I understand why, now."

Marian felt oddly exposed. It was frightening, but equally liberating, in a way.

"Hm. Well." She scratched distractedly at her cheek. "You…asked."

"I've asked before."

That was true, Marian conceded. He had asked, every once in a while, over the years. And most times she either deflected, or there was some other reason not to talk, some new crisis, or problem, or…

"You don't have to talk about any of it now, you know." Varric went on, sounding concerned. "I wasn't trying to trick you or anything."

Marian glanced at her companion, thoughtfully. It was Varric. If she couldn't trust Varric, who could she trust?

"No, I want to do this." She said, slowly. "I want to tell someone. And I've already started, I might as well finish, I suppose. Maybe it'll take my mind off thinking about storming the Gallows and…" Marian groaned, resting her head in her hand.

"She'll be okay, Hawke."

Varric picked up the decanter, topping up their goblets again. They drank in silence, a moment, listening to the sound of the fire crackling away.

"What did you want to know next?" Marian asked, eventually.

"Tell me what happened after your father died."


	4. Hard Times

The year after father's passing was one of the hardest Marian could remember, until…more recent events, at any rate. It was a year of uncertainty, fear, and hardship. It was made all the harder as it became more evident to Marian, and the others, that Leandra, mother, had taken Malcolm's loss far worse than was immediately obvious.

For some months, mother simply shut down. She seemed to barely exist, working and seeing to the essentials, to keep their home together, but…little more than that. For those several months, it was almost like losing her too.

Marian had little choice but to take charge. Somebody had to. Someone had to keep them together. Someone had to feed and clothe them.

So Marian worked, in the village they lived on the outskirts of. She hunted, in the woods around them, she fished, when she had the time.

Carver dealt with it by pulling away even further. He was always so angry, to short-tempered. He stopped short of openly defying Marian, always coming through to do what was needed in the end, but there were always arguments, always shouting first.

Eventually, she taught him to hunt, and fish, and make sure there was always enough firewood, and enough clean water.

Marian weathered her mother's wild and sporadic moods, for a year. Her anger, her grief, her utter disinterest. She felt supplanted by Marian's efforts. She felt helpless without Malcolm. She felt outrage at her eldest child's apparent lack of feeling on her father's death. She felt ashamed in front of her children, that she wasn't taking care of them.

Marian suffered the tantrums, the breakdowns, the rants and venom, because it was better aimed at her, than Carver or Bethany.

She had spent the last twelve years of the twins lives enduring Leandra's apathy, she could endure her sudden attention, in whatever shape it took. Marian wasn't stone, though, and in her weakest moments, she wasn't sure she wouldn't just wake up one day and go mad, or simply leave the house, and wander off, never to return.

In her weakest moments, she sometimes thought about it. But then she thought about Bethany, and she was able to last another day.

Bethany was quieter than she had been before, sadder perhaps, but her behaviour around Marian had changed little. What had changed, was Marian's attitude to her younger sister. Where before, she'd tried to shut her out, ignore her, erase her from existence in her mind, now she simply…let her in.

Suddenly, her days were filled with talking, laughing, chattering. The endless, ceaseless curiosity of a younger sibling she'd refused to acknowledge, with almost a decade to catch up on. And in that year, Bethany doggedly persisted in making up for lost time.

In Bethany she found an ally. In Bethany she found a companion. In Bethany she found a friend.

Bethany was her sister, and she loved her. And she felt foolish for taking so long to come to…to realise that? Come to terms? To accept that she even had a sister?

It didn't matter. Bethany was there, suddenly, and she wasn't going anywhere. Marian started to notice all the things she'd never really paid attention to before. All the little quirks, traits and things like that. She had their father's intelligence, she had their mother's will, she had the courage of a Hawke, the bearing of an Amell…

…but she was developing her sister's dry wit and charm, and Marian was proud of her for that. It made her feel…something, to know that she had a real, tangible connection to somebody, like that, at a time when she'd felt so like an outsider in their troubled family.

Marian had been forced to become the rock their family clung to, their foundation, their core, to cling together. But Bethany was her rock, her core, what she clung to, now. She was her sister, her friend, the one who kept her pushing on through the long, hard days of that year.

After so long being taught to be the strong one, the responsible one, the one others depended on, it was so strange to find Bethany there, at her side, or just behind her. Picking up the pieces she left behind, in a manner of speaking. Always there with that gentle smile, those curious eyes, and those persistent hands.

It seemed like after all those years trying to keep her at arm's length, Bethany was trying to make up for lost time there to. There weren't many times, where possible, she wasn't resolutely clinging on to one of Marian's hands, or trying to weasel another hug out of her, or…well…anything, as long as she could touch her, somehow. Bumping shoulders, hooking arms, sitting together…

It was a long year, it was a hard year. Full of struggle, pain, and turmoil, but at the end of it, their family was still together. Mother had reached an…equilibrium, of sorts. More like herself with Carver and Bethany, at least, though things were still difficult between them. Carver remained irritable, short-tempered and seemed to have developed a persistent rivalry of sorts with her, over…everything and anything.

Bethany was…it was strange. Marian could hardly remember the time she hadn't wanted her around. She could barely imagine not having Bethany at her side, always.

She was fifteen now, Marian eighteen. The year had been hard, but despite their differences, conflicts, and struggles, the Hawkes had come out the other side.

Marian didn't think things would ever be easy, but she felt ready. And-

"Sister, can you help me with this?"

Marian looked up from the wood she was chopping, mopping her brow with her arm. Bethany was practising with her staff, the one father had helped her make, and looking at her expectantly.

She set aside the axe, massaging her sore hands. She wasn't sure what Bethany thought she could possibly help with, and knowing her it was just an excuse to get her attention again.

Marian glanced guiltily at the unfinished pile of lumber.

"Marian?"

She looked up again, at Bethany. Her eyes bright, hopeful.

"Sure."

It'd keep. Right now, her sister needed her.


End file.
